


Love Me, Just For A Bit

by biextroverts



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Revenge Sex, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biextroverts/pseuds/biextroverts
Summary: Julia is angry and Marina is there (also impressed, and not a little turned on). Set between 1.03 and 1.04.





	Love Me, Just For A Bit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I'm gay for Marina Andrieski. I have no other reasons. I'm just fucking gay.
> 
> Anyways I was doing a rewatch of the show with my dad and as I sat there watching the collaborative magic scene in 1.04 complete with that "you didn't tell me it would-" "feel so good?" interaction I just went "oh my god Julia and Marina totally fucked after Julia's fallout with Quentin." So this is that.
> 
> Title is from "Touch Me" from Spring Awakening.

          “A party trick,” Julia mutters, fingers moving through the convulsive gestures that make up Ludazer's Electric Blast. With a final flash, she performs what she still can't help but think of as jazz hands; lightning crackles from her palms, each bolt thick as rope, and strikes the wall ten feet away, singeing the cinderblock. “I'll show him a party trick.” She runs through the movements of the spell again, fingers twitching and thumbs arcing through the air. The audible sizzle as the electricity leaves her body is cathartic, as is the release of pressure as she targets the wall and pushes out, the energy fading from her tingling hands at the same moment as it scorches the brick. “Is that a fucking party trick, Quentin?” she asks, shaking out her hands before she repeats the spell a final time. “Does that seem like a fucking party trick to you? I didn't think so."

          “Very good.”

          Julia pauses in her nearly mindless repetition of Ludazer's and glances back at where Marina leans against the cinderblock wall opposite the one on which Julia has been practicing her casting. Marina's painted red lips are curled up in a smile, and the glint in her eyes is halfway between appraising and impressed, which is as good as it gets with Marina. Julia doesn't think there's anything she or Quentin or _anyone_ could do to get New York's top witch to stop her mental calculations for even a single second. She dreams about it, sometimes, but she knows better.

          “Thanks,” Julia says, wiping her hands on her thighs as though she's gotten something on the former that she has to get off. There's a battered wooden table in the middle of the room, and two unfolded folding chairs sitting on opposite sides thereof, and Julia crosses to it, collapsing in the nearer chair with a huff.

          Marina approaches the table, catlike, and sits far more gracefully than Julia, though, of course, Julia thinks, she hasn't been casting spells all day; she's just been watching Julia cast them. Marina allows a softer smile to grace her whole face now, open-mouthed and gentle-eyed, the calculations indubitably still going on inside her head almost invisible in her startling blue irises and deep black pupils. “You're doing well, Julia,” she says. “Really. I've never seen someone learn magic – or anything – so quickly.”

         “My teachers always said I was good at picking things up,” Julia says, pushing down the butterflies that rise up in her stomach, the fireworks that go off in her heart, whenever Marina pays her a compliment.

          Marina's smile widens to a grin – _there's one for the record books_ , Julia thinks every time it happens – and she chuckles. “You are. I bet you could give that boyfriend of yours a real shock.” She mimes electrocution.

          Julia rolls her eyes, but fails to stifle her own chuckle. “Not funny,” she reprimands, biting down a smile.

          Marina shrugs. “Well, not for him.”

          Julia really can't help the laugh that bubbles up in her at that, or the grin that follows it. “God, I could show him!” she says, and she knows her eyes are shining as she imagines the startled, confused, thoroughly dejected look on his face at the punch of her magic in his gut – not enough to hurt, of course, but just enough to sting a little.

         “He deserves it,” Marina says, tapping her short black nails against the table. “Dumping on you. Like you owed him anything. Like Brakebills _makes_ him anything.” She sighs. “Men and classically trained magicians are my two least favorite types of people.”

          “Is that why you like me so much?” Julia asks. She's teasing, but she also wants to know – when doesn't she, after all?

          Marina's smile is slow and lazy, and her eyes are full of a new kind of appraisal, warmer than her usual brand, and accompanied by dilated rather than narrowed pupils. “That's one of my reasons,” she says.

          “And your others?”

          The quiet clicking of fingernails against wood slows, and comes to a stop. Marina reaches out and takes Julia's wrist in her hand, turns it over, and traces the veins in its underside with one of her fingertips. She looks Julia directly in the eye, and it takes all of Julia's fortitude not to shiver at the combination of touch and eye contact.

         “Like I've said,” Marina says, “you're smart, and you're passionate, and you question things.” Her lips curl up in a smirk, and one of her nails scrapes lightly against Julia's skin. “And of course it doesn't hurt that you're hot.”

          Julia pulls her wrist away with a start; the spot where Marina scraped her tingles like it's burning now. Marina frowns and knits her eyebrows, but raises her hands the way people do in movies (and maybe real life?) to show they're unarmed and come in peace.

         “Hot?” Julia repeats.

          Marina's eyebrows shoot up. “Don't tell me you didn't know.”

          “That I'm …”

          “Attractive.” Marina's smile is halfway between friendly and predatory. She gives a crisp nod, then shrugs, suddenly all calculated nonchalance; her lips curl down down in a pout, and she looks Julia over with slightly narrowed eyes. “By conventional standards, at least,” she adds.

          “And by your standards?” Julia can't help asking.

          “Well, wouldn't you just love to know?”

          Julia studies Marina's face. Her crystal blue irises have been nearly engulfed by the black holes of her pupils, and she's chewing on her lower lip – Julia would think she was nervous, if she didn't know by now that Marina didn't feel such lowly human emotions as anxiety. The barest trace of a blush peeks out from beneath her collar. She's tapping the table again; her nails, Julia notices, barely pass her fingertips. “I think I am,” she says, evenly.  
  
          Marina smiles a close-mouthed smile. The click of her tap, tap, tapping fingers is leisurely, almost languid. “And what makes you think that?” she asks, eyebrows raised in challenge, although she doesn't sound like she's about to deny it.

          Julia meets Marina's stare, and Marina's pupils, if possible, grow even bigger. “Dilated pupils,” Julia says pointedly, “for one. I can see you're literally hot under the collar, too, you know. Then there's the finger-tapping and the lip-chewing, but those aren't the same kind of telltale physiological signs. For more of those, I'd have to get a hand up under your skirt.”

         Marina's head is tilted; her expression is halfway between a smile and a smirk, and her now-black eyes are wide, considering. “And do you wanna?” she asks, something real and heady beneath the teasing lightness of her tone.

          Julia swallows. A thousand different thoughts run through her head – _I have a fiance, Marina_ and _I ate a girl out at a party once but other than that it's just been boys and fantasizing my whole life_ and _I haven't actively been considering it but that's where this has been headed this whole time, hasn't it?_ And _god, imagine the look on Quentin's face if I were to tell him I'd banged the top bitch in New York_ _–_ but what comes out of her mouth is simply a low, breathy “god, yes.”

          Marina's smile widens and she shows teeth. She stands from her chair, pushes it in, and leans against the table with one hand in a way that is definitely doing things to Julia's underwear. Julia stands, too, and the moment she's within range, Marina grabs her wrist in a vice grip. Marina's smile makes every nerve in Julia's body vibrate, whether from fear or determination or lust or some mixture of the three, she doesn't know, but _god_. Julia steps forward, presses her lips to Marina's, and Marina responds in kind.

          Marina doesn't kiss like a woman who wants to possess you; she kisses like a woman who knows she already does. There's no hunger, no desperation to her touch, just firm insistence in the way she captures Julia's lower lip between her teeth and bites, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but close, in the way she chases Julia's mouth with her own whenever Julia breaks away for breath, in the way her hands bracket Julia's hips; her grip isn't tight, but Julia somehow knows that she wouldn't be able to escape it if she tried. Not that she is trying – she returns Marina's insistent kiss with equal fervor, and her hands, up the back of Marina's shirt, scrabble at unhooking Marina's bra so Julia can rake her fingernails down across the expanse of Marina's back, leaving thin white lines she can't see but that she knows she's making, and that she loves the fact that she's making. Marina ruts against her, hips knocking with Julia's, and one of Julia's hands finds its way beneath Marina's skirt, up the leg of her panties. She inhales sharply at the sudden warmth that greets her; the air in the warehouse isn't unnaturally dry or cold, but it's nothing compared to the wet heat between Marina's legs.

          “Damn,” Julia says, fingers ghosting over Marina's core, a millimeter away from skin. 

          Marina grits her teeth and rolls her eyes. “If you're going to get me off, then get on with it,” she says.

          “Bossy,” Julia mutters.

          Marina snorts and rolls her hips against Julia's hand, and Julia complies with her impatience. She finds Marina's clit easily; when she presses her thumb against it, Marina gasps, quick and sharp, and stifles a moan by pressing her lips together and inhaling, exhaling, through her nose. Julia grins; Marina's doing her best to maintain her composure, and it's an admirable best, but it's not good enough for the girl with a naturally keen eye and a hand up Marina's pants. She presses down harder, and Marina rolls her hips again, but her facial expression remains thoroughly unimpressed.

          “You have four other fingers, Julia. Are you intending to use them?”

          With the hand she has free, Julia flips Marina the bird.

          “Cute,” Marina says flatly. “But really. I've seen you do plenty of impressive things with those hands, Julia, so why not show me one more?”

          Julia stretches her fingers out experimentally – she's done this before, sure, but only on herself, and usually she was able to see what she was doing, at least a little. She reaches back with her index and middle fingers – the way her wrist is angled pushes Marina's panties down her thighs – and pushes just the fingertips of those two fingers into Marina's slit. Marina rolls her eyes.

          “That all you got?”

          “No.”

          Julia pushes farther into Marina. She lets her thumb, still on Marina's clit, drift a little, stroking the organ as she pumps her two fingers in and out of Marina's body. Marina moans, no longer, it seems, trying to conceal her responses to Julia's touch, and bucks, causing Julia's fingers to penetrate deeper still. Julia curls her fingers inside Marina, draws circles with her knuckles against Marina's walls. Marina's own hand comes up to grope at her chest, and Julia catches on; she brings the hand not inside of Marina up under Marina's shirt and strokes at one of Marina's swollen nipples – the one Marina herself isn't fondling – with the pad of her thumb. Marina lets out a low, throaty hum of satisfaction.

          “There we go,” Marina says, although it's more of a groan; her head falls back against the wall behind them. Somehow, she still manages to smirk. “I knew you were a fast learner, Julia.”

          Julia doesn't respond in words, but twists her wrist, causing Marina to gasp. She can't reach Marina's clit anymore, but she tries to make up for it with her fingers, fluttering them against Marina's walls, scissoring them inside Marina's body, trying every trick in her very limited book and making up a couple of new ones as she goes along. With her other hand, she continues to knead at one of Marina's breasts, while Marina works at the other. Marina's breathing comes quick and labored now; her hips roll like the tide against the back of Julia's hand, and every once in a while she lets out a breathy little moan.

          “Keep it up,” Marina says, her voice high and consisting more of breath than of actual voice. “Get your thumb – god – ” as Julia fans her fingers out and adds a third – “back on my clit, and we're golden.”

          Julia twists her hand at the wrist again, three fingers still working inside Marina, and brings her thumb back to rub at Marina's clit in slow, determined circles. When she pulls out her ring finger and begins to scissor her remaining two fingers back and forth between Marina's walls, Marina clenches around her and comes with a sharp intake of breath, a quiet whine, and a pure, full-bodied shudder. Her hand falls from her breast, and her head falls heavy onto Julia's shoulder. She rests it there only a fraction of a moment before she straightens up, brushing a sweaty tendril of hair out of her face, and regarding Julia with that appraising eye of hers once more.

          “This was fun,” she says,like it was nothing. “We should do it again sometime. You're good, Julia.”

          “Thanks,” Julia says. She's acutely aware of the fact that her own panties are soaked through, and of the burning in her loins that is demanding she get something done about it, and soon. Her fingers are still bathed in Marina's juices, and she briefly considers sticking them in her mouth, sucking them clean, like girls sometimes do in pornos. She wipes her hand on the corner of her sweater instead, noticing Marina following the gesture with her once-more blue eyes, pressing her lips almost imperceptibly together in a thin, dissatisfied line.

         “Mm-hm,” Marina says. She turns on her stiletto heel and marches towards the warehouse door, stopping at the last second to turn back to Julia, her eyes slightly narrowed and a smirk painted on her face. “Julia,” she says, and Julia nods to indicate she's listening, “I have a new idea for how to get bigger, better magic, and it involves fucking up Quentin's shit _hard_. Can I count you in?”

          “I'll give him a shock,” Julia says. She offers Marina a smile and a little wave, and is rewarded with a small smile in return.

          “Good,” Marina says. “I'm glad, Julia.”

          “Me too.”

          Marina turns again and exits, a swish of black fabric and red hair the last thing Julia sees of her before the door swings shut. She watches it for a moment longer, in case Marina returns, then collapses into a sitting position against the wall and sticks her hand down her pants, eager for the fire in the core of her to subside.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments because I live for feedback!


End file.
